


a cigarette and a silhouette.

by riskbreakered



Category: Blade Runner (Movies), Blade Runner 2049
Genre: F/M, Post Film
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 12:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13235757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riskbreakered/pseuds/riskbreakered
Summary: A tiny, beautiful miracle.





	a cigarette and a silhouette.

His mouth tastes like an ash tray; like death, come and gone and vacated.

K wakes in a startled jerk, his hands folded neatly over his chest. As if he'd simply decided to sit down for a small nap. He moves them down to his side, fingers rushing against thick bandages damp with blood. He chokes out a sound, an exclamation that struggles to define itself as either relief or horror.

K remembers. Deckard, the daughter. Endless white.

(A tiny, beautiful miracle.)

He looks around. There isn't much light in the room and the lamp near his bedside hinders more than helps his sight. He lets his eyes adjust, notes the vacant chair and the ash tray on the nightstand. He reaches out and touches the cigarette, still lit, billowing smoke to the ceiling in a thin ribbon.

The door creaks open and he fumbles, the cigarette dropping down to the floor.

"Shit!" A woman swears and rushes in toward it.

Propping up awkwardly on his side, K looks down and recognizes her. "Sorry," he says in reflex. (The instincts of a well-trained hound, even right to the very end.)

"My last one," the call girl says in exhasperation. Her eyes are as brilliant as he remembers and still full of fire.

She kneels by his bed and takes the cigarette between her teeth.

"Where am I?"

"Somewhere safe."

He doesn't realize the change in his expression until she wags the cigarette at him.

"And you're welcome, by the way. Not that bleeding out on a stairway isn't the perfect picture of a heroic demise. I'd say it looks good on you but..."

They both look down to the bandages.

"Why?"

"Kind of a spur of the moment decision, honestly."

She offers out the last nub of her cigarette and he takes it. Watches as the embers burn on, faint and red.

"How?"

She takes something out of her pocket, a tracker the size of a pill.

K lies back and takes a shallow drag. The smoke burns his eyes. He reaches up and rubs at them, feels the dampness of tears on his fingers. 

"I don't know what this is."

He feels her weight as she sits on the bed. Her hand, warm and real, reaches for his own. 

"I guess it's freedom."


End file.
